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My Breakup With the Sony PlayStation

I want you to know, before you read this letter, that there will always be a place in my heart for you. We’ve had some great times together, and made memories I wouldn’t change for the world.

But...

I think it might be time we started seeing other people. These last few years have given rise to some issues I need to address before they eat me up inside. I love myself too much to let you continue hurting me the way you have, despite how hard I fight to justify and rationalize our relationship. Before I get to those, let’s take a trip down memory lane to look at the steps we took, together, to get where we are today.

Like many born in my era, I grew up with videogames. From my dad’s old Intellivision to my first NES, I’ve been slaying virtual dragons and conducting tank campaigns against Hitler for as long as I can remember. I know you don’t like to hear about my “exes”, but there were consoles before you. However, the relationships one has as a younger man don’t compare to those you begin to develop in high-school.

That’s where you came into my life.

I got my first PlayStation2 in Christmas of 2001, when I was 16-years-old. Unlike many of my friends, I hadn’t owned a console during the last generation, being forced to rent Nintendo 64s from Blockbuster or play them at a friend’s house. Spending time with them was a lovely, but fleeting experience, with each wonderful moment tainted by the knowledge that no matter how much fun we had, they belonged to another. Unwrapping that box and seeing your dark, sleek, and sexy lines was an exciting time indeed. I couldn’t wait to plug you in (I know you always loved dirty talk) and get my hands on you.

Thus began a lengthy and stimulating partnership; one that often included many of my friends, you cheeky little freak. We made some great memories together…Lunch break Red Faction tournaments in my parents’ basement, trying the much hyped Gran Turismo and realizing that racing sims just might not be my thing, creeping through the streets of New Orleans in a chicken costume waiting for the right moment to strangle my target in Hitman: Blood Money, and playing intermittent matches of Tiger Woods between periods of Leafs games (Another tarnished and unhealthy relationship). You were my high-school sweetheart.

Eventually though, I started hearing rumours about your pretty little sister that was moving to town.In the later days of November of 2006, I packed a bag full of snacks, books, and a flask of whiskey to keep myself warm. Hopping in my truck, I drove to the local Wal-Mart to join the other diehards in the line, hoping to grab a PlayStation3 when they released at midnight. Much to my woe, it turns out that there were other suitors with similar intentions and there just wasn’t enough of you to go around. Dejected and a little hurt, I tried other towns: Barrie, Orillia, Newmarket, Aurora…but no dice. It seemed that if I wanted us to be together, I would have to be patient.As they say, “good things come to those who wait,” and come you did. A week or so after launch, and now sporting a brand new 42-inch LCD (you have to be flashy to get the attention of a highly desired lady like yourself), I finally got my hands on you. Things were good, and despite many of my friends telling me I should have gone with the hot new girl from out of town (the Xbox360), I stuck with you. I knew where my loyalties were, and you repaid my dedication in kind.

I came home one day after a long shift at work, hoping to get some “you and me time” in, but you weren’t in the mood, and rather than join me in some fun, you just flashed a yellow light at me. I was bewildered and started panicking. Perhaps I’d been too hard on you and you needed some time at the spa. So I sent you in to get cleaned up and pampered, and after your little trip, things were as they used to be: you and me together against the world.

However, our reunion was short-lived. That little yellow flashing light appeared again. And again. It took some time, but eventually I accepted that it was over between us. That’s ok, I thought, I can wait until your next evolution. We’d had some good years; I was cool with it being over. I knew it wasn’t long to wait until I could start fresh again with the PlayStation4.I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Not two months after purchasing, one day you just shut off. “Overheating,” I thought. I’ve been running her too hard; I’ll let her relax for a while.

Then you wouldn’t turn on at all. You just flashed that teasing blue light at me until I wept with frustration. It was over. Nearly a decade of loyalty and dedication, refusal to even acknowledge the other girls—even when Nintendo came back from summer vacation with a whole new look—I didn’t stray.

But I’m done. You’ve hurt me too much; too often; and don’t seem to care. It wounds my soul to type these words, my love, but I can’t do it anymore. I’ll try my best to only remember the good times, to look at the journey rather than the destination, but as far as “we” are concerned, there’s nothing left to talk about. I wish the best for you, and hope we can still be friends.